Vinter Year 502 | Fenrir's haunting howls have ushered in a great and terrible winter. All throughout the valley thick blankets of snow fall and hide away whatever foliage lay beneath. Temperatures plummet throughout the night with gharrish winds that seem to slip through every mortals very bones. Even the Wastelands can feel it, a great chill sweeping up the slopes of the ravine and across the sands during the night. Best to turn your eyes to the Houses for safety if you haven't already, nonpartisans. The lingering dark and shortened days mean nothing but ill for the Valley. It will be a winter to remember, and fight, surely.

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Introduction

Outpost Items

OOC & Character(s)

Appearance

Natsilane never had much color wise; born with a black base and white paint markings along his belly and muzzle he was among the more average. Long black tresses of hair grew from his strong neck and hindquarters, wavy by nature, and often held in a bun and braids to keep it from falling in his line of vision. He is peppered with scars and old wounds, giving off the distinct impression that he is a fighter. His legs were strong and hardy, feathered at the base along slate colored hooves.

One might notice upon further inspection however, that he no longer possesses hind legs. Instead, a long powerful tail-fin has replaced them, accompanied by a dorsal fin on his back. A part of his history that will never be forgotten, Nat has lived the greater part of his life in the sea as half horse/half sea creature. More than just his physical appearance had changed that fateful day, His lungs are now able to hold his breath for insane periods of time, and his body has adapted to the depths of the sea. It is far harder for him to spend time ashore now than it is to swim beneath the water's surface. His mouth has also changed, and in pinkish gums lay predatory teeth for capturing fish and other prey upon the ice.

Perhaps the most striking thing about him (aside from, of course the fins) is the pale color of his eyes. Blue but almost silvery-white, they pop against his dark hide.

It is not uncommon for him to wear golden hoops in his ears or on his dorsal fin. At times, he could even be seen wearing minimal armor along his front legs.

Personality

Much of who he was has been chipped away by his seemingly endless time in the sea. Now he is a cold man who would rather keep to himself and the few creatures who lurk in the water than talk to anyone who comes along the shores. Nat would sooner tell you off and swim away than strike up idle chit-chat.

He rarely shows emotion right up front. Its hidden deep beneath his hide and locked away in his heart. At times he is prone to breaking, and showing fits of anger and aggression during a fight; he has and will beat someone to death in rage if provoked. He often regrets this, however, and after he sees what he has done slinks away to weep at his actions in solitude

If one does end up befriending him, he is fiercely loyal. Often he will come to the aid of any who has been given the rare opportunity to get close to him, and will defend them to the death. Don't expect him to show affection in normal ways, but if you pay attention close enough you can see the subtle differences in his actions. The kind of person to leave gifts at your doorstep, or simply stand at your side; his 'love' language is unique to his own circumstance.

He seeks to impress no one, and therefore does not care and can come off aloof to those who try.

History

Born to a family in Exile from their home, Natsilane has only known the harsh cold of the Valley's farthest reaches. Hidden away from the houses and the wasterlanders and the gods--whatever noble blood ran through his veins was lost to him. He did not have a silver spoon to feed him grains a plenty, nor did he have servents to wait on his every whim. Natsilane had himself and his siblings, and for a time they had a mother. And their father, well he had gone into the wilderness and never returned.

They kept to the fringes due to fear, but Nat never quite understood it. Their mother ranted and raved of long lost glory and revenge and blood, but Nat would only sit and listen with his head in the clouds. The boy had a knack for adventure, and of course, getting into trouble.

The day he died had started like any other. His sister, Nantosvelta, and himself had been ordered to go collect what they could find for food by their oldest brother Neridian. In the hours the two scanned the world for food and supplies, the duo had come to the icy shores of SIldr's farthest reaches. Nat had never set eyes upon it before, though rivers were intimidating enough, the ocean was an expanse unfathomable to the young boy's mind. Curiosity stabbed at his mind, and, against his sister's demands to keep away from the shore, Nat proceeded with foolhardy caution.

Most of it was frozen, ice so thick it negated whatever waves had formed. A giggle from his mouth erupted into the cold air as he leaped gleefully from ice-block to ice-block, ignoring his sister's pleading voice from the safety of the shore. He called back twice to reassure her it was safe, that he was sage; but fate had a very different plan for the young boy.

As Nat began to pick his way back to the shoreline, a distinct crack resounded in his ears. He felt his body move as the ice split in two; unable to fit on either side of the block fully, his body crashed into the frigid sea. The water was like a knife to his chest, skin tingling with the sensation of such unholy cold. As disoriented as he was, by the time young Nat had been able to distinguish up from down, the ice had moved and covered his point of entry. Panic began to rise in his chest, and far off muffled screams of his sister bounced through the dark waters.

His insides felt like they would burst, and as he opened his mouth to breath he choked and only engulfed water into his lungs. The pale light of the arctic sun was all he saw as his limbs went limp--and it felt like an eternity before the black dots overtook his vision as he drifted to the bottom of the sea. Natsilane had never known death as intimately as he had in those moments; as all children do, he thought himself above such a dark force of nature. Yet here he was, drowned, a corpse to decorate the dark sands of the sea floor.

Nat couldn't tell you how long he had been like that. Whether it had been a day, or hours, or months; but one thing was for certain--when he opened his eyes and felt the water drug from his lungs as air rushed back in, the boy had been saved....but also changed. It didn't register at first, that the feeling in his back legs had been altered in some way. But as he went to stand on shaky legs, Nat fell back to the cold icy block that floated in the sea. His pale gaze turned to his back end, only to be met with horror. Whatever force had saved him, had taken his legs as compensation--and now, he stared at the fins of a blackfish silken smooth as water dripped from it's shiny hide.

He sat alone for a long time on that small block, crying out to the shore for his sister. And once he had the courage to drive back into the water (noting of course, how easy it was to swim now) he went to the shore but found the energy it took to drag himself upon the sands was exhausting. In fact, he had stranded himself on the shore, unable to return to the water till the tide came in.

It took weeks, maybe even months, for the realization to really settle. Nat could never return to the shore, and whatever family he had likely thought he was long dead at the bottom of the sea. And so, he existed in solitude, hunting the wildlife that came and went with the seasons, protecting the shore from would-be adventurers and vagabonds.

Mastery of Water

Dormant

Water control: Natsilane was born with no such abilities, but rather bestowed upon him were they when he perished in the sea. Now he finds himself able to will the element to do his bidding; from changing forms to giant tidal waves Nat is only limited by his imagination.

Tier 1: At this stage, Nat is unable to do much. He can exert his will over small portions of the water and separate it from the rest. His movements are limited, and concentration is paramount to his success with the element itself. Nat can use this minimal ability to isolate fish in the water and toss them to the ice so he can feed easier.

Tier 2: Now with better control, Nat is able to shape the water how he desires. Forming whips or snake-like apendages from his own body, it has become a weapon at his disposal. He has now begun to dabble in changing currents, but cannot do so with ease. If he attempts this, it leaves him vulnerable for several days. Nat is also able to assist the waves, or form small ones.

Tier 3: Mastery over his element; Natsilane is able to exert his will with ease over the element of water. It bends to his command and takes whatever shape he desires. The waves are his to command, and the current can be altered far easier than before (though this still takes the wind out of him, and is also dependent on the moon). He is also able to turn the water's phase to ice if he so chooses, and vice versa.

Tier 4: Natsilane has reached the point where he is able to control water almost on a molecular level. From changing its from from water to gas to ice, to seemingly pulling the moisture from thin air to create a wave on land, Nat is nearly unstoppable with his control. He can change a current with ease, and has become professional at utilizing it's weaponry capabilities. The hippo-campus can even take the water from another beings body should the situation arise.